


Hospitality

by busaikko



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Rule 63, Sateda, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronon regained consciousness kneeling in a cage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/gifts).



> based on mific's photo prompt.

Ronon wished he knew why this shit _always_ happened to his team. He didn't mind being in the Milky Way; Namakaeha Towrik had given him this posting as a chance to redeem his honor from the black mark on his service record from Kell's betrayal. He didn't mind working with the Vanir, even though they were sneaky little secretive bastards; he kind of felt sorry for them. They'd brought the Pegasans to their ancestral homeworld hoping for help in the war with the Wraith, and got treated like distant provincial relatives who stank like they had _verbeast_ shit on their mecha armor boots.

But Ronon's team, because they were all human and therefore had the advantage in infiltration, were the ones getting sent into Goa'uld territory. _Go find the Free Jaffa,_ Tyre ordered, and in the shiny perfect Asgard conference room, that seemed like an easy thing to do. _Go check out the rumors about... Erath._

Except the mission had gone out of control after the first few leads. Missions always _did_ that. Ronon suspected his life would be easier if he preemptively blew everything up first, but Taskmistress Teyla Emmagan was from the Lost Tribe of Athos, and insisted on dealing with everyone as if they were potential allies and good trustworthy people.

Which, no. Most of the people they met were not.

A lead from the Asgard Thor was supposed to be the ring-code for an Ancestral base on Erath, located under a sheet of glacier ice.

"Very secret," Thor insisted. "Quiet."

Rakai had snorted. "Cold, you mean."

But instead, the ring had opened into the throne room of System Lord Ba'al, and Teyla had gone into her peaceful explorers routine instead of letting them open fire, they'd quickly been outnumbered when she did give the order to fight, and so here Ronon was.

He'd come back to consciousness knelt naked in a cage, hands chained to the floor so he couldn't raise his head properly. His hair fell over his face, cutting off his view and really pissing him off, and his legs were cramping.

Ba'al sat above him on his golden throne, expostulating about what a great guy he was, and how they'd soon see things his way and be eager to beg for his forgiveness. Which he'd graciously grant in return for a little specific information.

Ronon wasn't quite sure how this was going to go down. The Goa'uld had a reputation for elaborate and excruciating torture, and they brought people back from the dead just to torture them to death _again_. Fuckers. But Ba'al's set-up involved dark red drapes and torches, and lots of human women in leather underwear and boots with impractical heels. Some of the women were carrying whips or paddles. None of their exposed stomachs had parasite scars.

Back on Sateda, there had been jokes at every sending-off party about pornographic _native rituals_ and _bonding ceremonies_ and _grateful nubile virgins_. At least, until Teyla expressed her opinion with her fighting sticks.

Ronon wondered if Teyla had been taken off to be reclothed and turned into one of these... playthings for Ba'al. He hoped not. If she got herself killed resisting, he'd have to bring down Ba'al's empire to give her a worthy vengeance. And if they somehow managed to beat her into submission, he didn't want to be forced to witness that.

Of course, she and the rest of his team might be dead. Ronon tried very hard not to think about that. Thinking about revenge was easier.

He wanted to rip out Ba'al's snake and wring it in both hands like a dirty rag, until its organs were pulp and its life-force extinguished. And then stomp on it with boots, and then burn it to ashes and throw them down a latrine hole to be shat on for the rest of time. For starters.

Ronon tried to keep an eye on Ba'al and pay attention to what was going on in the great opulent hall, and keep his temper under control.

Every so often, Ba'al would pause in his grandiose threats, and one of the expressionless spear-wielding guards would kick Ronon's cage. "Don't you agree?" Ba'al asked. "Wouldn't you like to be rewarded for your cooperation? What planet are you from? Who are your gods?"

Ronon wrapped his hands tight around the cage bars. "We are peaceful explorers. We have no quarrel with you," he repeated, over and over, keeping his voice flat. He was very aware of the vulnerable curve of his back, and the sway of his exposed cock and balls with his every shift. 

Finally, Ba'al seemed to become bored with the interrogation. He leaned back, tapping his fingers against the armrest of the throne. "Then let me give you a gift," he said, and smiled. "Let me show you hospitality."

He clapped his hands twice, and two guards scurried to pull back a curtain, revealing a drapery-covered dais. The door to Ronon's cage was unlocked and raised, and he was dragged out, the tip of a spear pressed hard under his jaw to ensure his cooperation. He could barely get his feet under him, and his head swam. It was far too easy for the guards to attach his chains to the corners of the platform, legs spread and arms spread, raging and helpless.

Ba'al pointed at two of the women, and they crossed the hall looking predatory: heels clacking, hips swaying. Their faces were carefully blank. One had a sharp nose and chin and dark hair; the other had light hair, a thin, crooked mouth, and carried a whip of red leather tails.

They took opposite sides of the platform without speaking, and that made a coldness settle in Ronon's gut. They'd done this often enough to have a routine. The woman with the light brown hair leaned over Ronon, possibly not aware that he could see almost all of her breasts in the tiny top. "I'm McKay, this is Sheppard, and _this_ sucks. Nice to meet you."

Ronon raised his eyebrows at her, amused in spite of himself. The dark haired woman – Sheppard – smirked. It was a good moment, a human connection.

So of course Ba'al had to destroy it.

"Do you like my new servants?" he asked, sounding well pleased with himself. "I acquired them from an unsuccessful rebellion. They are grateful to me, and for now they are my favorites." Ba'al's voice went low and dark. "Until they displease me." He waved a languid hand toward Sheppard, but his eyes were sharp and hooded, hungry. "Breed with the barbarian. I've heard good things about your genetics, and your usefulness depends on your ability to pass them on. And make sure I can see... everything."

"Right," Sheppard muttered, sarcastic under her breath. She reached out one hand to curl around Ronon's cock, and made a very fake expression of lustful ecstasy in Ba'al's direction as she began stroking him to hardness. "I'm forty-two, the ovaries aren't as _spry_ as they once were."

McKay rolled her eyes. "Your tubes are tied. I think he's more likely to give you a disease."

Ronon drew his eyebrows down and stared up at her, trying not to growl. "Clean medical three days ago."

"Ooh," Sheppard said, and leaned down to lick his nipples. The way she spoke and touched him, he'd expected her tongue to be feline-rough, but it was the softest part of her so far. Her eyes kept flicking to Ba'al, making sure he always had a clear line of sight down her cleavage, and the way she was bent over with her ass up must have killed her back. She worried one nipple with her teeth and said, not looking at Ronon at all, "I'm gonna have to rape you. Or die. I prefer not to die."

"We can get revenge together," Ronon offered.

He saw the quick flash of a dangerous smile, and then Sheppard handed Ronon's dick over to McKay as she stepped back to shimmy out of her shiny shorts. She wriggled like someone who had never wriggled sensuously in her life, checking Ba'al's reaction as he took in her exposed crotch, framed by the net stockings and garters. Something she saw in his face made her reach up and unhook the top as well, revealing small breasts, which she cupped absently, as if checking that they were still there. Then she reached down between her legs and rubbed her fingers against her clit, wincing a little. Ronon figured she was dry, and he saw McKay make the same quick judgment and scowl.

McKay had a funny face, quick to show emotions in a range from fear to outrage, but the look she gave Sheppard now was all annoyance. "Hop up," she snapped, and tapped a finger irritably on the edge of the platform. "Do I have to do everything for you?"

McKay might not be sensitive, but Ronon gave her points for dramatic flair as she set up the scene. She got Sheppard's head settled on Ronon's hip and Sheppard mouthing carefully at his dick, and threw Sheppard's legs over Ronon's, careful of the sharp boot-heels, so she had easy access to Sheppard's cunt. Back on Sateda, oral was a sign of trust and deep affection, and people took their time to build the experience into something sensual and beautiful. It was a gift, and Ronon'd only ever experienced it with Melena, before she'd died.

From the way Sheppard jerked and panted as McKay buried her face between her legs, Ronon realized for the first time that even oral could be as businesslike as a quick dirty handjob. He could _hear_ what McKay was doing, slurps and sucking noises, and smell the wetness from Sheppard's cunt. His dick jerked in Sheppard's grip, where she was jacking him lazily while sliding her lips in soft near-kisses over the head. The angle was wrong for her to take his dick in her mouth, but it still felt like a tease, as his dick slid helplessly over her mouth but never in.

He wished his hands were free, so he could touch them. He hated being the stage on which they performed, and he hated that it _was_ a performance, and he hated the way Ba'al had this power over them, and he hated... everything, but like it or not, his body wanted to fuck.

Sheppard arched and twisted, and McKay slapped her hip hard enough for Sheppard to raise her head and glare down, saying, " _Hey_ ," and then with a tug at McKay's hair, "I'm good."

McKay raised her head, her mouth and chin wet, and Ronon realized with a start that the hand he couldn't see was working inside Sheppard, little thrusts and twists that matched the hitches in Sheppard's breathing.

"Right," McKay said, and pulled her hand free. She walked around to wipe her fingers on Ronon's dick, which might have been practicality – maybe she didn't want to muss her own outfit – but it looked and felt... incredibly hot. As if she was marking him, like another tattoo, making sure he never forgot. "You just know I'd never let you live it down if you came on a straight girl's tongue," she added, and leaned down to kiss Ronon... or more precisely, to encourage him to lick her mouth clean. She tasted like sex, and she gave a calculated moan of pleasure as his tongue traced her lips.

"Keep telling yourself that," Sheppard suggested, sounding mean, but as she sat up she leaned forward – okay, maybe not a virgin and certainly not grateful, but definitely nubile – and grabbed McKay's chin to drag her up, kissing McKay while palming her breasts. She let the fall of her hair hide her face from Ba'al, just for that moment, and that's how Ronon knew that Sheppard was saying her thanks.

"Think of England," McKay said, pulling back. Ronon didn't know what the reference was to, but Sheppard was smiling as she settled back and positioned herself over his dick.

Ronon didn't worry too much about hurting her. He knew his dick was big, not so much in length as in girth, but there was nothing he could do if it did hurt. Ba'al, if he thought of them as people at all, probably wanted them to suffer. Anyway, Sheppard took him in slow, twisting her hips as she settled carefully down, holding the base of his dick in place right until she rocked her hips down to settle against his. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing even, and Ronon was pretty sure she didn't plan on coming. He was envious that she had the option to hold something back from Ba'al.

"You really suck at this," McKay said, speaking to one or both of them, and flipped her hair back. She picked up the whip that Ronon had assumed was just a prop and cracked it in the air, contemplatively. "I thought you could fly anything," she added, and snapped the tails down across Sheppard's ass.

Sheppard jumped and swore and twisted around and shoved her hips down, in a flurry of annoyed distraction that really worked for Ronon. It was worth the sting where leather had snapped across his skin as well – not even as painful as a slap, but it set his skin tingling. Some cultures had a tradition of punishment whippings; probably not McKay's. Ronon didn't really feel all that punished, and Sheppard just looked... oddly amused.

"Ooh, baby," Sheppard said, and then " _Fuck_ " as McKay brought the whip down again, harder. Ronon's thighs tightened and his ass clenched, and Sheppard's eyes narrowed even as she reached up to pinch her nipples. It took two more loud smacks before Sheppard finally, grudgingly lifted her hips and began riding Ronon's dick in earnest, letting loose short cries each time he filled her completely.

And then it was Ronon's turn for the whip, as McKay flicked the tails across the soles of his feet in an erratic pattern that stung. He jerked and twisted, but there was no way to escape from the hot sting, and he just ended up slamming his dick into the soft heat of Sheppard's cunt, like they were really fucking, instead of this sick parody of the act.

"That's more like it," McKay said, sounding smug. She gave Ronon a few more prods, as if ensuring that he kept the pace up, and then trailed the leather tails up Sheppard's back, over her chest, across Ronon's chest, and dropped it absently by his shoulder. She unhooked the front of her top and leaned forward to rub her breasts on Ronon's face.

He tried to catch a nipple in his teeth, and she twitched away, smacking him in the jaw with a breast. "Snakes like when host bodies get turned on," she murmured, tracing her lips along the line of his beard. "It's like a delicious drug for them. Make more noise. Even Sheppard manages to be loud."

"Come on, big boy," Sheppard said, voice gone hoarse from her panting cries, a sheen of sweat on her breasts. She let her head drop back and circled her hips before driving down to take Ronon in deep. " _Fuck_ , give it to me, oh yeah."

Ronon groaned, acutely aware of how fake he sounded, but McKay purred encouragingly and pressed her breasts at him again. Something in Ronon loosened. He turned his face into her chest with a shout, clenched his fists, and pushed his awareness of the throne room away. He concentrated on the mounting pleasure, building up from the warmth at the soles of his feet like an electric current, making his own chest heave as if he'd been running. McKay smelled good, and Sheppard was so hot and slick, and Ronon roared like thunder as he let the orgasm rip free. He slammed his hips up nearly hard enough to unseat Sheppard, but she just let loose with a shout of her own and shoved him back down.

Ronon struggled to come back to full awareness, squinting around the spots in his vision. Ba'al clapped from his throne; Sheppard leaned forward to brace her hands on Ronon's stomach, catching her breath, but she didn't let Ronon's dick slide out until Ba'al ordered her to dismount.

Ronon felt very cold and naked with the warmth of her body gone. Both Sheppard and McKay were quiet and wary, and Ronon picked up their tension. He wanted to be unchained.

"You're getting better," Ba'al announced. "Which one of you wants to attend my needs, now?"

"I will," Sheppard said quickly; at the same time, McKay took a step forward and said, "Me."

They glared at each other. Ba'al looked delighted.

"Both of you, then. Come."

Sheppard looked furious and McKay scared, as if that hadn't been the result she'd anticipated. McKay put a hand on her whip, but in response to a barely-perceptible gesture from Sheppard, let her fingers fall. She walked around the platform, and Sheppard started forward, to walk a pace in front of her.

They hadn't gone more than a handful of steps when Ba'al jerked, like a puppet on strings, and a white light haloed his head.

Ronon thanked all the gods of his ancestors as Ba'al slumped to the side, and tried to sit before he remembered his chains – "Sheppard!"

Around the room, the Jaffa guards also staggered, clutching at their incision scars.

Sheppard, when she spun around, was grinning fiercely. The spear-wielding guard who'd secured Ronon to the table was taken down easily by a few kicks from Sheppard's sharp-heeled boots, and she tossed the keys to McKay while stripping the guard of his weapons.

When Ronon was standing on his own feet, Sheppard called to him, "Catch," and tossed over a belt knife and a zat'nik'tel. She kept the spear for herself.

To Ronon's surprise, the scene in the room was remarkably well-organized. No one ran around screaming or made a dash for freedom: most of the captive women whipped off their scanty tops and used them to choke the non-Jaffa guards into submission and then tie them up. Others moved to the room's exits, following orders from Sheppard.

Outside, Ronon could hear some very welcome explosions and the distinctive whine of energy weapons.

"Hey, Sheppard," he called, and she looked up from dragging one of the guards over to the cage, where McKay was making good use of the keys and chains. "That's my people."

She straightened and shouted across the hall, getting the attention of the other women. "Our rescue's here, don't kill 'em."

Just in time, too, because that was when Teyla and Ara blew the throne room doors and entered under cover of the smoke. Teyla, thank the Ancestors, had Ronon's gun, and he shouted to her to hold her fire, that the room was secured.

Ara looked startled and then furious as she looked from Ronon's nakedness to that of the women in the room. She stalked over to where Ba'al was lashed to his throne, still unconscious, and spat on him three times before turning to the wary women guarding him and demanding a sitrep.

"Here," McKay said, appearing at Ronon's elbow with a set of clothes stripped off one of the guards. She was wearing a tunic so long it fell to mid-thigh. Ronon stepped into the cloth trousers and tried to get the jacket to close over his chest. Sheppard had on her same skimpy top and had snagged a baggy pair of trousers that matched Ronon's; she tugged off her over-knee boots before pulling them on.

"Oh, God, that's right," McKay burst out, kicking her own shoes off and as far away as she could. "I have permanent bruises on the bottoms of my feet and I could just feel my toes deforming. If I get bunions it'll all be... someone's... fault," she added, her voice trailing off as Sheppard gave her an incredulous look.

"Buck up," Sheppard advised, tugging her top up to cover as much of her chest as she could. "Could have been worse."

McKay looked both wounded and horrified, and Ronon felt he ought to have some good words to say here. But he didn't, so he just pulled the laces on his trousers into a bow and said, breaking all the rules about secrecy, "The Asgard sent us, looking for the Erath resistance."

" _Earth_ ," McKay burst out. "Every single time we tell them and they smile and nod and make little – " her fingers played over the air like it was a datapad – " memos and things and then, next time around, it's all Erath, Erath, Erath." Sheppard was making sharp chopping gestures with her hands, but McKay didn't notice until after she'd shut up all by herself. "I'm traumatized," she told Sheppard, raising her chin with as much dignity as she could pull together. "Don't – "

"It's cool," Sheppard said. She looked resigned, probably used to McKay by now, and shot Ronon a wry glance. "Are the Asgard finally going to take a stand?"

Ronon snorted. "We," indicating his team, "came to ask them for help." He tried to think of how to describe the Wraith. "There's monsters, where we come from. Bad."

Sheppard waved her arm grandly, like she was giving a tour. "Out of the monsters and into the snakes," she said, and there was enough sympathy in her voice that he didn't hate her for making a joke.

Ronon straightened, and gave her a pledge salute, because he was serious as blood. "Specialist Ronon Dex, Satedan Planetary Forces. Ally with us. I'll make sure you get revenge. Blow shit up."

Sheppard nodded slowly, not in acquiescence but thinking, communicating something in glances with McKay. Then she returned the equivalent of a salute, her open palm facing down. "Joan Sheppard, former Major of the former Air Force. We... need help. Don't think it'll be long before the next system lord decides to move in and make an example of Earth. Again." Her mouth flattened. "They like... making examples." She reached out, slow and jerky, and put her hand on McKay's shoulder, offering some kind of comfort in the light squeeze of her fingers. "Allies is the best offer we've heard in a long time."

"Even though we have no idea what a Satedan is," McKay added, frowning. "For all we know you could be, I don't know, Furlings, or human-form replicating robots."

"Pretty sure not the second," Sheppard said, jerking her head toward the table and the restraints.

McKay's face went mottled red, but Ronon couldn't read her expression.

"You are an ass," she said, jabbing a finger at Sheppard, who grinned, and then stared significantly over Ronon's shoulder, where Rakai and Teyla were approaching, Ara covering them. "I'm a physicist, not a soldier," she told Ronon, sounding defensive. "And an engineer. I fix things. That's what I'm good at."

Sheppard moved one hand to McKay's shoulder in an awkward, protective half-embrace, and Ronon wondered suddenly just how long Ba'al had had them, what had happened before he'd been captured. He turned, making sure to stay between his team and Sheppard and McKay.

"Why can't you just learn to hug like normal people?" McKay said, and patted Sheppard's hand like someone who was very, very bad with children.

"Straight girl cooties," Sheppard muttered, very low, and probably counting on Ronon not understanding the cultural references. "Eww."

"This is my team," Ronon said, and gestured. "Taskmistress Teyla Emmagan. Rakai. Ara." He looked at Teyla. "Sheppard and McKay, from the resistance. I told them we were allies."

Teyla frowned, but handed Ronon his gun. "We will provide what assistance we can," she said, carefully. Ronon wondered what intel she had on the Erath – no, _Earth_ – situation. "Weapons, transport, medical care. Access to the Ring of the Ancestors." She held a hand out toward Sheppard, but made no attempt to touch. "I am sorry," Teyla added, voice warm with compassion. "By rights the goa'uld's death was yours. We took that from you."

"It's cool," Sheppard said, shifting on her feet. "What did you do?"

Rakai grinned. "Called in the Vanir, and they beamed the Goa'uld parasites out of their hosts and Jaffa and into the nearest sun." He cocked an eyebrow at Ronon. "Got enough stasis pods on the ship to ice the host and the guards until we figure out who's salvageable." He turned his head to look at Sheppard and McKay. "Your people coming?"

Sheppard grinned wide, still holding on to McKay like a talisman. "On your spaceship? Hell yeah."

McKay glanced around the throne room as if searching for something, but then shook her head as if shedding memories. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  


**[Soundtrack](http://www.sendspace.com/file/61ojs4)**  
1\. 1 John 4:16 (The Mountain Goats)  
2\. Chained to the Couch (THe Devil Makes Three)  
3\. Anthem for the Already Defeated (Rock Plaza Central)  
4\. Stadiums and Shrines II (Sunset Rubdown)  
5\. Call Me A Hole (pomDeter)  
6\. Freight Train (Kasey Chambers)  
7\. Rusty Cage (Johnny Cash)  
8\. Ender (Finch)  
9\. Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (Klaatu)


End file.
